


Dinner at Home

by suckersoprano



Category: Portal (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Cooking, Cuddling and Snuggling, Dinner, Domestic, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-19
Updated: 2012-04-19
Packaged: 2017-11-03 22:30:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/386691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suckersoprano/pseuds/suckersoprano
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Craig wants to make the kinds of food Rick would like for a quiet, romantic dinner; he realizes he's a little in over his head with his Southern food plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dinner at Home

                Dinner had been cancelled several nights in a row now and if Craig had anything to say about it, this was going to end tonight. It was not _needy_ to desire to see one’s significant other, not at all; it had been several _weeks_ since they’d had any alone time, it wasn’t unreasonable to want to just _relax_ together. This was why Craig had made plans for Rick to come over to his apartment with offers that he would cook. It wasn’t at all an issue until Craig decided he had to cook something Rick liked instead of the other way around. He was a good cook, when it came to cooking healthy, lean, trendy things, but Rick was… Well, the other man was distinctly Southern and to say that Craig wasn’t familiar with Southern food was an understatement.

                Regardless, he wasn’t daunted and promptly went grocery shopping to acquire the necessary ingredients for… for something to cook; something that he could easily make and something Rick would enjoy. Unfortunately, given his penchant to doubt himself and worry, Craig spent the majority of three hours circling the grocery store with nothing in hand and no ideas. Finally, realizing it was getting much too late for this, he realized he was going to have to fry something. Reluctantly, he hurriedly grabbed the first workable things he saw and rushed home. Rick was going to be there soon; Craig needed to get to work.

                A peach cobbler was made first, which was simple enough and he had done it plenty of times before. It could sit in the oven while he fretted about how to making chicken-fried steak, corn bread, and collard greens. Craig rolled up his sleeves and started on the one thing he _did_ know how to make; he washed and peeled potatoes and set them in a pot to boil to mash them up later. After that, he spent the next hour poring over his cookbooks on how to make chicken-fried steak, or corn bread, or collard greens. Vegan corn bread recipe, not what he needed; soup with collard greens in it, not even close; lean steak cut into pasta with vinaigrette, far, _far_ too healthy.

                It was getting far too late to agonize over this any longer; Craig glanced at the time and pulled down a bag of flour and carefully measured some of it into a bowl before approaching the container of steak with a wary eye. He didn’t like red meat very much, it was something he avoided in favor of different protein alternatives; consequently, he wasn’t entirely sure how to _handle_ red meat.  Well, it was time to at least _try_ this whole business.

 

                Half an hour later, Rick showed up on time for once, he noted with a check of his watch. He stood outside Craig’s apartment building and rang the bell. Several moments later, the speaker near the bell crackled to life, but there was a crash and it immediately shut back off. Rick stared at the speaker for a moment before attempting to open the front door. There was a buzzer and the door opened; that didn’t bode well. Rick stormed up the stairs and paused next to Craig’s door, pressing his ear against the door, jumping back as he heard something else crash.

                “Craig?” he called, worried that he was getting robbed or worse.

                There wasn’t an answer and he tried the doorknob, finding that it swung open easily. The sight that greeted him was Craig’s living room, exactly how he would normally leave it. There was some obvious grumbling from the kitchen.

                “Hey, Craig, y’alright?” Rick called out, approaching the kitchen.

                There was swearing and some rustling around, Rick finally poked his head into the kitchen and stepped back at the sight that greeted him. Nearly the entire kitchen floor was covered in flour and so was the sole occupant, who was attempting to sweep up the mess furiously. Rick quickly moved into the kitchen, grabbing Craig’s broom, prompting the shorter man to look up at him with messy glasses and upset eyes.

                “What in th’ _hell_ happened’n here?” he asked, reaching up to brush some of the flour that was clinging to Craig’s hair.

                 “I… I was attempting to cook and…,” Craig stopped and took a deep breath to calm himself, “It didn’t turn out exactly how I had planned.”

                It had turned into an utter _fiasco_ , if he were honest, if the flour spread across the kitchen floor and the counters, even in Craig’s _hair_ was any indication. Rick’s mouth quirked into a slight smile and gently pulled the broom from the blonde’s hands.

                “What were y’tryin’ t’make?” he asked, setting a hand on his shoulder and guiding him to a kitchen chair.

                “Ah… well, I wanted to make something that you would like…,” Craig trailed off, dragging his glasses off of his face and pressing his fingers to his eyes, “I realize I don’t know as much about that particular type of cooking as I thought.”

                After passing Craig a napkin to clean his glasses, Rick surveyed the flour-coated ingredients to see what he was planning on making. From what he’d gotten, it appeared to be all of the things that _Rick_ liked and none of the things that Craig was familiar with. He chuckled and stooped to press a kiss to Craig’s cheek, which was flushed from embarrassment. Rick snagged both his hands and squeezed them in his lap while crouching on the kitchen tile.

                “Tryin’ t’make collard greens ‘n cornbread?” he asked slowly.

                “Yes and steak; chicken-fried steak to be exact, which is where my problems began,” Craig muttered, sounding uncomfortable and slightly embarrassed.

                Well, if that wasn’t cute as hell, Rick didn’t know what cute was; Craig going out of his comfort zone, let alone for him, was rare and if it was going to happen again anytime soon, he had to turn this around. He leaned forward and gave him a quick peck on the lips.

                “Look, lemme clean this up for ya while y’go get th’rest of the flour outta yer hair, ‘kay?” he gripped the broom and stood up.

                “No, I have a—Oh _shit_ , the oven!” Craig shot out of his chair, swearing, but Rick deflected him by grabbing his shoulder and steering him out of the kitchen.

                “ _Get_ ; I got it, now getcherself clean,” he said firmly.

                With one more glance cast at the powder covered kitchen, Craig finally agreed and disappeared into his bedroom. Rick grabbed an oven mitt and yanked open the oven, slipping the pan out of the heat; it was cobbler, he realized with a grin. Well, if there was one thing he already knew Craig did well, it was peach cobbler. This wasn’t a complete disaster, fixable yet. The cobbler was set on top of the stove while he swept up the rest of the flour into the trash. It was a pretty thorough mess for Craig of all people; it made Rick half wonder what caused it.

                Not too long before the blonde man reappeared with slightly damp hair and a new shirt, Rick had already scooped up most of the flour mess off of the floor and counters. He sheepishly moved into the kitchen with a towel around his shoulders when Rick waved him over.

                “Guessin’ yer hungry right?” he asked, looping an arm around Craig’s waist after he nodded, “Well, y’had th’right idea, want me t’help y’out?”

  1.                 A sigh and an agreement later, Rick immediately put Craig to mashing nearly forgotten potatoes and mixing cornbread while Rick showed a surprising amount of skill in the kitchen, pan-frying the steak without a problem and tossing the greens in a bowl with some spices and ingredients Craig missed him slipping in there. The cornbread was pretty quickly set to cook and the potatoes set aside after they were properly mashed.                             



                “C’mere, Peaches, ‘n I’ll show y’how t’make th’steak,” Rick grinned, snagging his wrist to pull the blonde in front of him.

                “I can manage to… you know what, show me,” Craig acquiesced, leaning against Rick’s chest.

                Rick hooked his chin over Craig’s shoulder with a chuckle, “Gonna get th’meat here ‘n put it ‘n th’milk, got that?”

                Reluctantly, Craig picked up a cut of the meat he had gotten and set it in the bowl of milk Rick had set out, before tilting his head slightly for the next instruction.

                “Don’t be shy ‘bout handlin’ it, yer gonna wash yer hands when yer done, either way. Dump that right ‘n th’flour,” Rick instructed and waited for Craig to do as asked, “’n flip it, yeah like that… now ‘n th’pan.”

                Craig flipped it in the flour rather quickly, but looked up at Rick and then back down at the crackling oil, but quickly dropped it in the pan and yanked his hands away, pressing against Rick’s chest as it crackled and sizzled. Rick laughed and moved the pan around, one hand tucked around Craig’s waist while he flipped the steak with a spatula.

                “S’not s’hard, issit?” he pointed out, kissing the top of Craig’s head.

                “Perhaps a willingness to handle the ingredients improperly was necessary,” Craig huffed, though his arm curled around the back of the dark-haired man’s neck in a backward embrace.

                A timer rang and the cornbread was hurried out of the oven, while the greens were tossed. Craig started to arrange plates and pull out the wine he’d selected, pulling down glasses and setting the table, seemingly more relaxed now things were going smoother. Rick watched Craig fix the plates with some amusement while he made gravy to go with the potatoes, finally pouring that bit on top and helping Craig carry the plates and glasses to the table. They both sat down and Craig seemed to completely relax this time.

                “See? S’all okay. We did pretty damn well, if y’ask me,” Rick reached over and squeezed his shoulder.

                Craig finally smiled and they settled down to eat. They small talked through the meal, drinking and eating, until they were almost done; Rick noticed that Craig purposefully avoided the collard greens. He watched until he was completely done, almost laughing at the idea that Craig was avoiding the green bits for once.

                “They aren’t bad,” he said suddenly, pointing at the greens with his fork, “Little spicy, but s’not bad either.”

                Craig gave both the greens and Rick a dubious look, so Rick reached over and scooped up some of the greens on his fork and offered it to the blonde. With another unsure look, Craig opened his mouth and allowed Rick to feed it to him. He chewed for a moment, face unreadable until his eyes suddenly got wide and he swallowed thickly, face beginning to flush.

                “What? Too spicy for ya?” Rick said, suppressing a chuckle.

                Craig nodded frantically and scrambled for his wine glass, but Rick pulled it out of his way just in time, “Oh no, Peaches, that’s a bad idea, here.”

                He snagged a piece of the cornbread and Craig grabbed his wrist before the bread, eating that hastily. A few moments of chewing later, he settled down, face still a little red. Rick really did chuckle this time, allowing him to grab his wine glass back. The dishes were cleared away and set into the sink while Craig served up the cobbler, Rick’s arms around his waist, pressing kisses to the back of his neck.

                “Made m’favorite,” he noted, prompting Craig to nod curtly.

                “I had noticed,” he said quietly.

                They ate the cobbler in the living room, starting on opposite sides of the couch and eventually ending up nearly in the other’s lap. Teasing bites were shared and crumbly, sugared kisses were shared until the plates were forgotten on the coffee table. Full and content, Rick’s back was leaning against the arm of the sofa with his hands resting on the small of Craig’s back with the blonde’s chin resting on his hands on the bigger man’s chest. There was almost talk of something hotter, heavier, but they were both drowsy at that point and accidentally drifted off to sleep to the sound of the other’s steady breathing.


End file.
